


N.A. Is More Than OK; It's Orgasmic.

by Gala_and_Elle, gala_apples



Series: Slantverse [14]
Category: Bandom, The Used
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Sensation Play, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gala_and_Elle/pseuds/Gala_and_Elle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bert gets recruited for his weird sex life, then enjoys his weird sex life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	N.A. Is More Than OK; It's Orgasmic.

Bert doesn’t pay a lot of attention to his students. To be honest, most suck, so everything he does is grading on a curve. Bs for everyone, unless they sucked really horribly, or were complete jerk offs in class. Those teenagers get a C or fail, depending on how he feels. On the other hand, some are really good artists, and some just make him laugh. Like Pete Wentz in fourth period. Can’t draw worth a damn, but every time he says something Bert ends up laughing. He’ll get an A for effort, or however else Bert can think of to bullshit a reason for the grade. The nice thing about Art is it’s all subjective. Quinn’s got Biology, he has to actually check if the answer is right or wrong when he’s grading.

A prime example of a dicksmack is Chris Porter, second period. Bert knows he took the class because he thought it would be easy, and normally he’d be right. But if Bert was fifteen years younger and not in a position of paid authority he’d punch the little fucker right in the face. Instead he has to make do with D’s for everything. Hopefully the asshole will answer a handful of questions wrong on the art history exam he has to spring on them in January, and Bert can perfectly legitimately fail him.

Normally he talks shit about stuff Bert doesn’t really care about. He’s one of the asshole doms that demean their sub. Bert doesn’t care if someone’s into humiliation, if that’s someone’s slant it’s their slant. No need to fuck with that. But there’s a difference between calling his girlfriend a cocksucking cum gobbler to her face to get her off, and talking about how bad she is at giving head behind her back. Still, if the sub really cared she’d dump Chris and find herself a better guy or girl. They’ve all had years of sex ed class, they can handle their own lives.

Today he’s not so lucky. The little pissant decides to start a conversation with “N.A.s are so fucking weird.”

If he punches the kid in the face he’ll get fired. Probably arrested, because while it can’t be bullying because Chris would be free to punch back, it’s also someone in a sensitive position attacking someone weaker. What he can do is shut him up. Bert makes a show of standing and shrugging. “We’re not that weird.”

Everyone is staring. Bert decides to help them out by taking one of his rare walks around the room. He make a comment about colour use for a few of the shitty drawings, and takes his time actually noticing the details of the good artists’ work. They seem to be a little thrown off by the attention. He’s not exactly known for plumbing the depths of their message, or suggesting a thicker line. The three are the only ones really focused on their art by the time he’s done talking. The rest of the class are still muttering around their tables, the low hum of twenty five students all not wanting to be overheard.

Oh well. He and Quinn are outed now. So what? It’s not like Brian will fire them. The principal likes them. He must, there are about a dozen reasons he could fire Bert with each performance review. And if some parents get into a tizzy, Howard will straighten out their shit. Bert’s not worried about it.

He heads to Quinn’s classroom for a quick kiss at lunch, maybe a quick more than a kiss. It’s not to be, he’s tutoring a few kids that are clearly completely lost in the material. Yet another reason Bert likes his subject better. When his students suck no one expects him to make them better, because they just don’t have the natural talent. When Quinn’s students are fucking stupid, everyone expect him to make them miraculously smarter. Obviously the entire student body knows, the four teens are staring just as much as his class was.

“Outed us, huh?”

“Didn’t know we were trying to stay in.”

Quinn shrugs and shakes his head. Bert goes in for another kiss, then fucks off so Quinn can try to make at least one kid understand that the human heart beats so that blood will flow. He could stay, but he’d be more of a distraction than anything. He doesn’t really give a shit about biology anyway.

The real repercussions of his actions don’t come up until fourth period. One of the capable artists, Gerard Way, puts his backpack down with Pete’s. There are a few other students at the table, but Bert doesn’t really know them unless he takes attendance and looks up instead of noting the _here!_. Gerard’s different. Even if Bert wasn’t watching who Pete talked to in order to be entertained, he would know Gerard. The kid’s good enough that he’ll probably end up going to an art school after graduation. Said kid only takes a second before rushing up to his desk.

“Is it true?” It sounds like a question, but it’s shouted. If Bert was prone to hangovers he’d be in pain.

“You mean the non active thing?” Like Gerard could possibly mean anything else. Bert has no doubt that his and Quinn’s freaky alternative relationship will be the talk of the school for days, at least until some couple does something outrageous in Jimmy’s basement.

“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t have said anything before! I was at the N.A. Pride Parade and I didn’t see you!” Bert gets the mental image of him and Quinn standing on a float rapidly followed by one of them marching with signs. He can’t help the laugh that bubbles out. Gerard continues undeterred. “Oh well. I guess I can forgive past mistakes. The important thing is you’re proud and loud now!”

Bert's not really sure what he’s supposed to say to that. It’s not like he did it to strike a hammer for the non active cause. Not saying anything wasn’t a mistake, it just never came up before. He settles for an eyebrow raise.

Gerard’s not done yet. “So the entire school has oppressed me. They’ve tried to silence me and the N.A. battle! But I’m sure you won’t allow that to continue.”

Bert has no idea what this kid is talking about. It’s time for another eyebrow raise.

“I’m sure you understand the importance of being free! Free to be and think and like what you want!”

Bert’s actually only sure that the only way he’s going to get this kid to shut up is if he agrees with whatever it is that he wants. This is far too much attentiveness for one day already. He ends up agreeing to co-man some N.A. group. He doesn’t know a thing about it, and he sort of tunes out once Gerard starts in on ‘their’ objectives, but he has no doubt the teen will tell him when he has to show up, where.

Finally Gerard fucks off back to the table his friends are sitting at. He’s grinning like he’s scored some really good pot. “Everything is beautiful. I just took one small step towards freedom.”

“The fuck? Are you like Neil Armstrong or something?” Bert snickers at Pete's comment, though Gerard doesn’t seem to like it. Pete Wentz is totally getting an A.

The last two periods go by in a rush. He doesn’t have a class in fifth period, so he takes a nap, and he wakes up halfway through sixth. Nobody says anything about him taking roll call thirty minutes in. He doesn’t want to narc on the skipping kids, but if Stevie McSteve missed the first five periods and is marked as present for his, it looks bad. Accurate account keeping is one of the things that’ll make Brian’s life easier.

He’s putting the stools up -if they aren’t up Jimmy probably won’t move them to mop and there are half a dozen splatters on the floor- when Quinn comes in. Mr Allman has somehow convinced his last period freshmen that they can’t leave the classroom if their chairs are down. He always gets out first.

“Guess what I’m doing after school.”

Quinn’s smirking, he can hear it in his voice. “If you say you took a coaching position I will laugh until I cry.”

“This kid Gerard, you have him?”

“Don’t think so?”

“You’d fucking know if you did. He’s a good artist, but he’s also a do-gooder. He’s starting some N.A. campaign or something, and he needs a teacher to monitor it, make sure it doesn’t get out of control.”

Now he’s flat out laughing. “You’re gonna get the kid arrested. Since when do you care anyway?”

“I care slightly more than any other teacher and that’s enough for this kid.” The real answer is since dickcheeses like Chris Porter exist, but Quinn doesn’t really like it when he gets vendettas against fifteen year olds.

“Wanna go shopping?”

There are kinds of questions that seem innocent or easy to answer, and then have hidden depths of joy or misery. Interview questions are always like that, so are questions about faith. With any luck Bert won’t have to deal with either river of shit any time soon. But shopping has its own hidden meanings too.

“Food, to-do list, or fun shopping?” Food is moderately necessary. There’s always take-out, but pizza places tend to not have ice cream or barbeque chips, which are two of Bert’s favourite food groups. He’ll pass on to-do list shopping. They’ve gotten by three weeks without a broom and he’s pretty sure the last can lack longer. But there are a handful of stores Bert genuinely likes. Dollar stores for example are always bad ass. And-

“Value Village?”

“Fuck yeah.” Used stuff stores are like pirate booty caves, always full of good stuff. He puts up his last chair, grabs his bag and races Quinn to the car.

The loot this time is pretty decent. At least Bert’s is, he doesn’t know what Quinn scored. For everything else they share expenses, food and hydro and internet. They’ve lived in the same room since Mrs Allman was still paying for everything and trying to convince them they should go to every class every day. Bert has no qualms about sharing anything he’s got with Quinn, wouldn’t think about it for a second. But in Value Village it’s every man -and his wallet- for himself.

“What did you get?” In the world of used shit shopping, showing off loot is only second to actually finding it.

“A few amazing ugly ties,” Quinn says as he fishes them out of the white bag. They are spectacularly hideous.

“I could have you model for my classes on why you shouldn’t mix three shades of paint together without looking. When’s your spare, again?”

“I hope I make a freshie’s eyes bleed.”

Bert giggles. Quinn’s weird tie thing makes his whole formal attire thing acceptable. Bert can get away with t-shirts, he’s the art teacher. Only five sets of parents showed up to the last parent-teacher, because no one gives a shit if their child is doing good at drawing. Quinn is a core class though. He has to put on his Mr Allman attitude and wear a button down shirt and fucking slacks.

“Better than that, I got a fur bedspread.”

“Holy shit. Does it reek, or can we use it now?”

Something that no one ever seems to get is that Bert’s not slantless. Well, Gerard would probably know, but he’s not about to pour his heart out to a seventeen year old. Rant at, maybe. But the vast majority don’t seem to get that just like anyone else, there are things he likes to do in bed. He just doesn’t have to do them to Quinn, and Quinn doesn’t have to do them to him. And that doesn’t make them switches either, a conversation -or argument- he’s had a hundred times. Switch means you take turns being the bitch and making someone be your bitch. In their bed, they prefer no bitches.

Bert’s slant is textures. It’s one of the few things that makes him fitting as an art teacher; the thrill he can get from smearing charcoal or building with clay. If a grown ass man can’t enjoy himself while fingerpainting he might as well hang himself. Because Quinn is a perfect boyfriend/best friend/soulmate, he knows how to use this. Quinn is a creative bastard, and Bert loves it.

A ball of fabric whaps him in the face before tumbling to heap around his knees. It’s obviously not real fur, it’s a lurid lime green. But he really wouldn’t want to lie on skinned animals anyway. He raises a corner to his face. It’s got that VV retail smell, but there’s nothing hidden underneath. No pot or cigarette smoke, or dust or mothballs. He shrugs and jams it under one arm before walking to the bedroom. His finds can wait until after the awesome sex.

Bert makes quick work of the normal blankets. They don’t exactly practice hospital corners. That shit stopped the day Bert escaped the repressed hell of his parents for good, just like pretending to believe and hating himself did. Okay, maybe not the last, but Quinn got that mostly under control. It would be better if the fur was a fitted sheet, more likely to actually stay on the bed, but you can’t have everything.

“Fuck me or ride me, I don’t care. But I’m laying on the blanket, man.”

“Great choices, but I’m gonna go with fucking you.” Quinn smirks and starts stripping down. Bert smirks back. It’s a good choice of his own. Quinn likes to be teased, and Bert’s not in the mood for soft lingering touches. He wants fast jerky movements that will scrape him all over the fur.

Clothes in a pile on the carpet, Bert tossess himself onto the bed. It would be fucking heavenly, if he believed. Quinn wastes no time climbing on, watermelon filling the air as he slicks his fingers. He runs two down the inside of Bert’s thigh, Bert shudders and throws his legs open even more. They’ve done this before, gotten a new bottle of lube and just fucking stroked each other with liquid hands. It works for the both of them; feels fucking amazing, especially if Quinn blows on the streaks he makes, and Bert takes his time before he touches anything of importance. But that’s not what this evening is about, and a minute later they’re both in Bert’s ass. He pushes his body forward and the fur bristles against his back. He sighs, and as Quinn starts pumping his fingers he sighs again.

He doesn’t need much prep, thank fuck. When you have sex once a day six days a week your body starts to get used to it. It’s not long before Quinn is grabbing his ankle and resting it against his shoulder so he can push in from a better angle. Bert twists his head as he enters and rubs his face against the bedspread. The fine threads shudder against his sweaty forehead, they want to stick to him.

“Ahhh, fuck,” Bert swears. Quinn’s giving him exactly what he wants. He knows Bert wants fast, Quinn always fucking knows, just like he always knows Quinn. Everyone should always end up not-married with the person they first tested with, it makes life so much fucking simpler and nicer.

“You should jerk me off with a fur mitt.”

He snorts. “I’ll find a fur lined condom too, we can try that next.”

Bert laughs, it comes out stuttered between grunts. Every time Quinn thrusts he pushes him a little further up the bed. The movements are against the grain of the fur, making the strands stick up and rub against his back and legs. He won’t come just from the sensation, but it’s not something he’ll forget soon. Fur bedspread is going on the List.

“You want me to come in you or on you?”

Fuck, like that’s not a direct shot to his cock. “Close?”

“Make a decision or my dick will, Bert.”

“Fuck that’s so fucking hot, _Jesus_.” The day Quinn blowing his load on his chest gets old is the day Bert goes and plays Chicken with a train.

Quinn comes inside him, but doesn’t pull out. It’s better that way, keeps Bert full and fucking needy. The great thing about Quinn -okay one of many great things- is that he always gives a shit about if the other guy is getting his rocks off. Knowing what Bert likes Quinn reaches across the bed for a corner of the blanket. Bert doesn’t realise what he’s doing until it’s already done and the fist shaped curl of fabric is rubbing against his cock. “Jesus fuck!” Three good strokes and Bert’s biting the pillow, completely not caring that there will be a wet spot later.

When it’s done, when he can fucking breathe again, Bert manages “It’s going on the List.”

“Yeah, like I thought it wouldn’t.”

“God bless Value Village.”

“A fucking men.”


End file.
